Page 63 of The Swindler’s Daughter

I sighed in resignation. “Yes, we do.”

Rowan nodded. “Let’s head back toward the village. We’ll plan as we go.”

***

I could not decide if we were brilliant or if we were the most idiotic, foolhardy band of outlaws ever to grace the earth. We were going back to a place where we had nearly been caught once before. It was daylight once again, and it was the house of the man who had the power to throw us in prison.

If Hunter knew what I was doing, he would strangle me.

We were doing our best not to stay together. We’d sent Ansel and Gretchen to go begging at the parson’s door. They were to tell Father Tucker they were helping us and ask for the use of his wagon.

I watched from across the lane, pretending to eye the goods that were on display outside the tailor’s shop. Father Tucker answered their knock and they conversed there in the doorway for several minutes. The parson seemed surprised but agreeable, and eventually Ansel crossed his wrists behind his back, signaling that Father Tucker had agreed to our plan.

I hid my relief, fingering a few ribbons before crossing the street and slipping into the space between the magistrate’s home and the tavern. By the time I reached the back door, Rowan was already there, a scarf fitted over his face to hide his identity. He kept his back to the wall beside the door. We knew the door would be barred, so I would need to convince the maid to open it for me.

I rapped on the door, my knocks quick but quiet. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about attracting the attention of the parson, who was on our side, or the tavern owner, since he had closed up, choosing instead to take his barrels of ale down to the festival.

Soon, I heard approaching footsteps from inside and decided to add my voice to the ruse. “Help!” I hollered, just loud enough to be heard through the door but not loud enough to attract the attention of those walking the street at the front of the house. “I need the magistrate’s help, please!” I pleaded, making my voice sound tear-filled and vulnerable.

As soon as I heard the door being unbarred, I moved aside and out of sight. When the door creaked open, Rowan was already there, his bow nocked and drawn, the tip pointing at the girl’s chest.

The maid gave a startled yelp, trying to shut the door, but Rowan’s boot was wedged in the way.

“Remain silent and you will remain unharmed,” he said calmly, advancing with confidence.

The girl whimpered and a wave of guilt washed over me. I hated that we had to use her this way.

Rowan disappeared inside, the door shutting behind him. As I waited for him to return, Tyson, Oliver, and John joined me.

“We must be crazy,” Oliver muttered, gripping the hilt of his sword that hung at his belt.

“Yes, we are,” Tyson said with relish.

“Focus,” John chastised. “This isn’t a game.”

Tyson gave a shrug. “That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”

John just shook his head and we all fell silent until the door opened and Rowan waved us inside.

“She’s tied up in the kitchen,” he said as he closed the door. “Let’s get to work.” He gestured to Tyson. “Cover your face and go stay with the maid so she doesn’t make any noise.”

He ran off to obey.

“Where are Gretchen and Ansel?” Rowan asked.

“Playing a game at the side of the house. They’ll start yelling at each other if anyone starts looking at the house too closely.”

“And the wagon?”

“Father Tucker is driving it over. He’ll leave it out back and then return to the parsonage.”

We all moved to the bedroom, where the two large trunks sat against one wall. “Miri,” Rowan said, gesturing to the locks.

I knelt before the first trunk, working on the lock as Rowan stripped the blanket from the bed. As soon as I popped the lock, I moved to the next one, letting the boys step into my place so they could lift the lid and start loading the contents onto the blanket, which he’d laid out on the ground. We had planned to bring burlap bags with us when the time for this theft came, but since our timeline had been so unexpectedly moved up, we had to make do with what we had. Fortunately, much of the loot was already contained in individual leather pouches.

My heart raced as John jumped out the window and we started handing him load after load through the window so that we didn’t have to haul everything down the tiny hallway to get to the back door.

My pulse thrummed in my neck. This was insane. We wouldn’t possibly get away with it. This entire idea was absolutely mad.